21st Mississippi Infantry Flag
As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
This is shared as a historical reference, because none of the Godlesss will tell the Truth about the race of Americans which Abraham Lincoln and the European financiers who ripped America apart with a Civil War intended, in exterminating this race.
We have this Ken Burns propaganda about the Southerner, being in rags and with skin and bones, but the Mississippi children were nothing of the sort of the type we are brainwashed with who of course were better exterminated than live.
This is the history of the 21st Mississippi, a group of pure Andrew Jackson wild Americans, born in the swamp, hunting and killing bears like Davy Crockett when they were only three, with hearts of gold, morals of the Saints, and in the Confederate army, all became born against Christians.
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This Mississippi brigade was, in many respects, the finest body of men I ever saw. They were almost giants in size and power. In the color company of the Seventeenth Regiment, when we first met them, there were thirty-five men more than six feet one inch high, and in the Twenty-first there was one man six feet seven inches in height, and superbly formed, except that his shoulders were a trifle too square and too broad in proportion. They were healthy and hardy, even ruddy, which was surprising, coming as they did from a region generally regarded as full of malarial poison. They were bear hunters from the swamps and cane brakes and, naturally enough, almost without exception, fine shots.
As a body, they were very young men and brimful of irrepressible enthusiasm, equally for play and for fight. The laugh, the song, the shout, the yell of the rebel charge burst
Page 65 indifferently from their lips; but in any and every case the volume of sound was tremendous. It was a common saying that the "sick men" left in Barksdale's camp, when the brigade was away on duty, made more noise than any other full brigade in the army. The only comment I have to make upon this statement is that I cannot recall ever having seen one of them sick or "ailing" in any way, except when suffering from hunger or from wounds. At times they seemed about as rough as the bears they had hunted, yet they were withal simple-minded and tender-hearted boys, and at Fredericksburg hundreds of them became Christians.
I knew almost every man in the brigade and often attended their religious meetings. Many a time, after I became adjutant of our battalion of artillery, Col. H. C. Cabell's, as I galloped past their lines awaiting the order to charge, my heart has been cheered and strengthened by a chorus of manly voices calling after me, "God bless you, Brother Stiles, and cover your head in the day of battle!" How could I help loving these simple, brave, great-hearted fellows.
These were the prime breeding of the American Race. A race which thrived in the disease of the swamps and a race which grew to giant stature fed on the milk and honey of America. This is the Race which was intended for extermination in their Israelite Spiritual form in 1865, and has been the target in every World War, war for profit and now the Obama genocide of this Southern Race in the 21st century to replace them with Jesuit Mexicans and Muslim terrorists, as the American Taliban financed by George Soros it tearing down the monuments to their chivalry.
Remember, and never forget, what has been kept from you.
I have no hesitation in saying that I never witnessed an exhibition of bounding, buoyant power and unshakable bodily soundness and stamina that compared with this performance of the Mississippians. The men were all, or most of them, over six feet in height and averaged, I shoud say, over 200 pounds in weight, and yet they ran down the steep slope, keeping abreast of galloping
Page 69 horses, and leaping over each other's shoulders, the head of course inclined, but the column of the body almost upright; and as the leaper would strike far below, with a jar calculated to jolt a man's vital organs out of gear forever, he would instantly assume position again, with a shout, while two hundred pounds of yelling, human trap-ball would in turn execute the perilous flying leap over his head.
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